THE ETHICS OF DETECTIVES.
DOES the end always justify the means in the detection of crime, and are no limits to be placed upon the action of police officers in regard to the discovery of criminals,
provided always what they do is intended to facilitate the bringing to justice of offenders ? The question, which is one of no little interest, is raised in a very concrete form by a volume, just published by Messrs. George Routledge and Sons, entitled "Stories from Scotland Yard." In this work, Serjeant Moser, late of the Criminal Investigation Depart- ment, tells a number of curious stories of crime, and informs us of the various methods employed by him for finding out the whereabouts of persons wanted by the police. Most of his deeds of cunning will pass unquestioned as perfectly legiti- mate; but there is one instance in which the ethical bearing of what he did is not so clear. Before, however, attempting to deal with this particular case, it may be worth while to ask whether it is not possible to discover some principle, or series of principles, which ought to govern the work of detection. In the first place, it may be safely laid down that the detective must never commit crime in order to hunt down a criminal, however great the temptation. For example, when some amateur detectives a few years ago committed an outrage of a peculiarly objectionable kind, they were rightly condemned by public opinion and by the Courts of Law, in spite
of the fact that their motives were per se pure, and that they honestly desired to help in the work of putting
down crime. In the same way, it would not be right to allow or encourage a forger to commit an ordinary assault in order to facilitate his capture. We do not of course mean, when we use the word "crime," crime in any mere technical sense, but an act which does harm to a particular individual, or in some way inflicts injury upon public morality. For example, there is no harm in a detective stealing a letter from the pocket of a thief and reading it, for
the deed is not really criminal. It is the animus furandi,—
the intent to do an unlawful act, which constitutes the crime. But the detective has no unlawful intentions, and no desire to convert to his own use, but simply a desire to obtain information which may lead to the suppression of crime. If, however, the police-officer, without explaining the real object in view, were to induce another person to steal, he (the constable) would be clearly in the wrong, for he would be aiding or abetting an act rendered unlawful by the fact that the stealer believed himself to be acting the part of an ordinary thief. No one can have a right to demoralise or to assist in the demoralisation of another person, under any cir- cumstances whatever. The man who knows that the object in view is not theft, is not demoralised, but he who steals to steal is necessarily injured by the process. For example,
Serjeant Moser on one occasion saw a waiter in a cafe in Soho,
receive and place in his pocket a letter which the detective believed to be from a criminal a knowledge of whose where- abouts be was anxious to obtain. He therefore dropped his ring on the floor, and asked the man to look for it. Alphonse, expecting a reward, immediately went on his hands and knees, and while thus engaged, Serjeant Moser abstracted the letter from his pocket, and thus obtained the means of bringing a forger to justice. Who can doubt that this was a perfectly justifiable act ? Bat if, instead, Serjeant Moser had suborned another person to steal for reward, and without telling him the object in view, he would most assuredly have acted very wrongly. The question how far a detective is justified in breaking a promise to a criminal, is another matter which constantly presents itself in the work of criminal investigation. Here it seems at first sight very difficult to lay down any hard-and- fast rule. No one can doubt that, in order to catch an offender, a detective has a perfect right to assume a character not his own, and in that capacity to lay a trap for the capture of the man he wants, even though in so doing
he has to enter upon a series of deceptions. For example, when Serjeant Moser was effecting a purchase of certain books and photographs which it was a highly criminal act to sell, he was justified in giving the vendor the impression that he was not making the purchase in order to obtain a conviction. There are, however, other breaches of faith which appear to us entirely unjustifiable. Though, as a rule, there is little to criticise in Serjeant Moser's manner of conducting his investigations, we cannot but think that in one instance he did commit one of these unjustifiable breaches of good faith. The facts of this particular ease are exceedingly curious. Three Frenchmen of doubtful antecedents and slender means agreed upon the following plan for increasing their resources. They prepared and sent out to foreign artists of repute, a highly artistic circular stating that a com- mittee of connoisseurs in England had decided to hold an exhibition in London of pictures by foreign painters, in order that the British public might have the means of becoming acquainted with the work of French, German, and Russian painters. The opportunities for successful sale would, they declared, be very great, and they accordingly urged the persons to whom the circulars were sent, to forward their canvases to a certain address in London. As a result of this clever scheme, pictures to the value of 214,000 were despatched to London, and came into the possession of the three adventurers above- mentioned. It is needless to say that no exhibition was ever held, and that the pictures were soon sold and the proceeds divided. Unfortunately, however, for the swindlers, some of the victimised artists took action, and the matter was placed in the hands of Serjeant Moser. At first he could get no clue ; but one day he met a man named Burton, whom he had some slight reason to suspect as an accom- plice, walking along with two nice water-colours under his arm. Conversation followed, and the detective went to the lodgings of the unsuspecting Burton to see some more of his fine works of modern art. Here Serjeant Moser found that many of the pictures corresponded with the descriptions furnished him from Paris and elsewhere, and thus feeling sure of his man, he turned round and remarked :— "Burton, I have had the advantage of knowing you for some time. My name is Serjeant Moser, of Scotland Yard, and I shall want a little further explanation from you as to how you became possessed of these different works of art." Burton was at first staggered at the discovery of the sort of angel he had been entertaining unawares, and exclaimed : "Well,—you don't mean to say that ! " but then regaining his composure, he offered to take Serjeant Moser at once to the men from whom he got the pictures, provided that he was not himself arrested. "Well, we'll go and see," was the reply ; and, accordingly, the exhibition committee were soon after arrested. They were all taken to Bow Street. Burton, however, expected that the implied pledge to let him off would be fulfilled, and inquired : "I thought that you were going to let me free ?" "When did I say so?" was the reply ; and with an "I am done then, am I ?" the receiver of stolen goods realised his position. We cannot help thinking that, in availing himself of a quibble, and in not keeping faith with Burton, Serjeant Moser passed the limits or deception allowed to a detective. That this view will be taken by most people who read the story, we cannot doubt, and in our opinion the view will be sound. And for this reason. It is of the utmost importance that criminals should be taught to rely upon the good faith of the police authorities. If they are, the work of detection is rendered much easier. There is, in reality, very little honour among thieves, and if he believes that he can thereby save himself, the first man caught out of a gang will be very likely to "peach." If, however, he knows that the promise of escape will not be kept, then he will prefer to keep his mouth shut. Unless criminals are made to understand that the faith of the police authorities can be depended on implicitly, the chance of accomplices and accessories making a clean breast of the matter will be greatly injured. No doubt it will be said that Serjeant Moser, when he had once arrested the man, had no power to let him go. But that being so does not make it less a breach of faith for him to have allowed Burton to believe that if he gave certain information he would be allowed to go scot-free. Under the circumstances, it appears to us that, in order to make a single arrest, Serjeant Moser was sacrificing the permanent influence conferred on the police by the knowledge that, when acting officially, they are to be completely trusted.
As we have said above, this is the only instance we can find among the many excellent stories of successful detection in which Serjeant Moser acted not in accordance with the principles which ought to govern a detective in the pursuit of his vocation. One of these stories is so strikingly dramatic in its incidents, that we shall not make any apology for quoting it here, though it does not specially illustrate our contention in regard to the ethics of detection. A certain Mr. Spencer, a confidential cashier in a merchant's house, one day absconded, after having carried on an extensive system of fraud. Serjeant Moser was told to take the case, and went to see Spencer's wife, and found her, naturally enough, unwilling to assist him. It happened, however, that in Spencer's office-coat was found a photograph of a very pretty child of about two years old. Now, Mrs. Spencer had no children, and it was also discovered that Spencer was in the habit of receiving letters at his office in a female hand, which did not come from his wife. Armed with these facts, Serjeant Moser made another call upon Mrs. Spencer, and found her even more disinclined to give informa- tion. He thereupon produced the photograph, told her where it had been found, and remarked, "That is your child, I pre- sume, Madam ?" adding the fact of the letters. The effect of jealousy on the unfortunate woman's mind was instantaneous. She at once offered to do all she could to hunt her husband down, and ultimately provided information which led to the discovery of Spencer, who was living with the mother of the child under the name of Captain Effingham. Mrs. Spencer accompanied the Serjeant to effect the arrest, and the man was thus confronted by the two women he had deceived. The sequel to the story is, however, still stranger. The firm ultimately refused to prosecute, in deference to the pleadings of Mrs. Spencer. The reasons which induced her to use her influence thus, read as if from a romance. After seeing her husband arrested, Mrs. Spencer waited in the village for the next train to London. While there, she found a child who had gone astray, and, being fond of children, took it in her arms, comforted it, and listened to its talk. While thus engaged, a frightened nurse hurried up, and exclaimed with relief : "Mrs. Effingham would have been in a way if I had gone back without it." It was her husband's child. Although the child's photograph had made her determine to be revenged on her husband, the sight of the poor little creature itself entirely changed her mood, and induced her to do what she could to save the father. The child thus unwittingly pro- duced, first the arrest of its father, and then his escape.
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